


Lost Boy

by Toloveandbeyond



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Peter Pan Fusion, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I love these two pups, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Song Inspired, a lot of fluff, actually not sad, hopefully?, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 15:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13573869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toloveandbeyond/pseuds/Toloveandbeyond
Summary: Remus is no Wendy Darling, and Sirius is certainly no Peter Pan. But sometimes Sirius enjoys calling him darling anyway.





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This story popped into my head one day when I was listening to Ruth B’s single “Lost Boy” and refused to go away until I promised to write it down. I ended up drawing a lot of inspiration from the song.
> 
> Reviews and comments are so so appreciated pretty please I will pay with hugs and love.
> 
> Also I don't own these characters duh.

It all started, innocently enough, with a dream.

He was standing in front of the half-open window, shadow elongated in the pale moonlight filtered through the glass. That was the first sign that gave the dream away. The cagey attic that Remus had been calling bedroom for years didn't have a window, at least not any more, unless one count the tiny gaps between heavy wooden panels nailed in place where the window once was. Standing beneath the moon half risen across the sky, he did not feel the familiar dull ache throbbing within his body, whispering of pain in the past and pain yet to come. It might be a good dream for once, Remus decided.

In the distance, a shadowy figure appeared to be flying through the sky towards him. Upon closer inspection, Remus recognized the shape of a broomstick, gliding with ease amidst the chilly night air. Its rider turned out to be a boy of roughly the same age as him, his skin washed pale by the moonlight. With one graceful yet almost languid movement, he halted the broom by the window, long black curls flipping freely in the wind and pretty, oh so pretty. Bright like the star itself. Remus felt the urge to shy away from the sight, self-conscious of how his own body looked in contrast, with evidences of years of self-destruction and mistreatment laid bare in the moon. But the newcomer locked eyes with him through the glass window, and smiled a slow smile.

"Hey there."

And then Remus jerked awake, heart racing like he had just run a thousand miles. It was still dark in the attic, but strips of early sunlight had started peeking through the cracks on the wooden rooftop.

Of course, there was no window in his bedroom.

 

The Lupins of No. 5 Cheshire Dr. was a respectable family in their neighbors' eyes. Mr. Lupin, a distinguished gentleman in his late 40s with the charms that came from a long ancestry of traditional manners, was the current head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Ministry of Magic. Outspoken with his beliefs and strong-handed with his work, he was even rumored by some to be in the run for the next Minister of Magic. His son, a sharp-minded, dashing young fellow himself, was finishing his last year in Durmstrang and expecting to explore a career in magical law enforcement after graduation. The neighbors didn't hear much from him since he left for school except through Mr. Lupin, but whenever the young man was back during the summer, he was constantly the subject of many a blushing admirer. Compared to her successful husband and son, Mrs. Lupin was a much quieter character. She hardly ever seen leaving the premise of the residence, instead spending most of her days either reading in the back yard or tending to the garden. A fair woman of delicate build, she seemed to have an air of sorrow permanently buried in the depth of her eyes, even when she was smiling a good morning to the passers-by.

But that was only to be expected, of course, what with the tragic accident ten years ago. After all, the loss of a child always hit the hardest on the mother. And what a sweet and innocent child he once was, their little Remus, only to perish at the young age of 5 by the hands of one Fenrir Greyback, all because of his father's rising career in the ministry.

 

9:17am.

Remus glanced at the clock once more, before creping down the stairs leading to the actual living quarters of the house. The grandfather clock was old and rusty, like most of what was in the attic, but the spell holding it in place seemed to be still working amiably if one looked over the fact that it did tend to run 10 minutes faster than accurate.

Three times a day, Remus was allowed exactly 20 minutes to finish his meal downstairs, clean up after himself, and settle whatever one can't get done in an attic. During that time the curtains in the Lupin household would be drawn shut, under the pretense of their house elf's cleaning routine, to block any potential preying eyes from discovering what reside inside. Over the past ten years, Remus had perfected a schedule of getting down to the kitchens with carefully-calculated timing; too early he ran the risk of showing up in the dinning area when the other three family members were still eating, too late and the house elf would have already disposed of what's left.

He paused on the last step leading down to the corridor, listening intently. Father should normally have left for the office by now, but it wouldn't hurt to double check. And with any luck, Romulus would also be gone for one thing or another. He tiptoed over the corridor, slipped pass the living room --- empty, thank Merlin --- and made his way undetected into the kitchen adjacent to the dinning hall.

"Would you look at that, the animal came out of its cave in search for food."

Remus almost choked on a piece of toast, and silently cursed himself for not paying enough attention to sense the approaching presence. Not that he would have much chance of avoiding his brother anyway. Romulus must had been in a really smug mood this morning to diverge from his usual tactic of feigning ignorance of his existence, and did Remus know when to pick a fight.

"Look at me when you are spoken to. Or is that too much to ask for an animal?"

Remus turned around, slowly, still munching on his piece of toast. He did a quick scan over his brother's appearance, bath-robed and wet-haired, and felt satisfied to see no sign of his wand on him. Romulus was significantly taller and more well-built that his younger sibling, what with sufficient meal and outdoor exercises, but he was harmless enough without his wand. Occasional jabs and biting remarks, sure, but those are considerably easier to deal with than his father's cane, or his mother's tears.

"Whatever you say, _brother_."

Remus' voice was nonchalant, almost bored. And with that, he turned calmly back to his plate of toast.

 

That night, the dream came again.

"What is your name?"

The boy was perching on his window sill this time, his dark hair bathing with all its glory in the pale moonlight. His eyes were light grey, like the thin mist of dew rising from the grass when the sun was just about to rise, with swirls of starlight dancing around whenever he speaks.

Remus hesitated. Father had long made it clear that there would be hell to pay should anyone discovered his existence, let alone his identity. But surely it wouldn't hurt to speak the truth when it's all in his dream?

"Remus. What's yours?"

"Sirius."

Of course, like the star.

"Do you have a family, Remus?"

"Yeah. They live downstairs."

He tugged absentmindedly at a loose thread on his pajamas leg, distinctly aware that the boy has started to move away from the window, and closer to him.

"Then why are you living in the attic, Remus?"

Again, he hesitated. Because my family believed that I am a vicious mongrel who should be kept separate from the civilized society? Because everyone thought I died 10 years ago and it will only bring shame and disgrace to the family if anyone found out the truth? Because last time I happened to tread downstairs before the curtains were fully shut father left me with a broken leg and bruises all over? Because I quite literally turn into a bloodthirsty monster every couple weeks? Somewhere in the back of his mind where inappropriate jokes sometimes sprout, he reasoned that those seemed to all be at least a third-date type of topic.

"Don't worry. You can tell me."

The boy moved even closer now, choosing to sit on the side of the bed right in front of him. Slowly, and reassuringly, his hand inched towards Remus', now unconsciously clenching into fists. Remus watched, mesmerized by the movement of those beautiful fingers illuminated by the faint moonlight, until, ten centuries or one breathless second later, their fingers touched. The boy's hand was cold, cold from flying in the night wind most likely, but also warm. Almost unlike a dream, but a real person. He seemed to be saying something too, something along the lines of "there's nothing to be afraid of", but Remus was too preoccupied to hear clearly.

"Because...because I'm a werewolf."

The hand pulled away.

And then the boy himself. And before it dawned on Remus that he had said the word out loud the boy was standing in the middle of the room, only a distance of couple steps between them but a distance no less. His grey eyes were bright, with an expression that Remus couldn't decipher, but could surely guess what it means.

"I..." The boy stumbled on his words, hesitated, inhaled a big gulp of air, and then continued, "I will be back."

With that, he crossed the room in three strides, hopped onto his broomstick, and disappeared into the night sky.

 

The next night, the dream didn't come back. Nor did the night after that.

And the fifth night since the day the boy last showed up saw Remus tearing himself up into broken pieces, howling in blind rage and despair.


End file.
